


The Way You Move Those Hips

by Codependent_Idiots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Undercover, also posted on Tumblr, bartender!Dean, dean likes watching sam dance, siren from season 4 makes an appearance, stripper!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codependent_Idiots/pseuds/Codependent_Idiots
Summary: Sam and Dean are hunting down the Siren once again, and find it at a strip bar. So of course, they have to go undercover to kill it.Also posted on Tumblr





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll may have already read this on my tumblr, but I figured I could get it over here too :)

"You think it's the same one?" Dean muttered, looking through the front window of the Impala, squinting as a group of long-legged busty women headed inside a building called 'A Tall Drink of Water'. "What the fuck kinda name is that for a strip bar anyway?"

"Fits everything that happened before. Would make sense since Chuck decided he wanted to let out all the things we've hunted before. And as for the name, in case you didn't notice, all of its… ahem,  _ employees,  _ are very… leggy," Sam said with an exaggerated look at the ladies. Dean had to agree with that.

"So what, we play FBI again? Disgruntled husbands who found out their wives cheated? Boss and unpaid intern bitching about work? Or just go gank the damn thing all over again, guns blazing?" Dean didn't have to look to know Sam was rolling his eyes at him.

"No, we might have to try a different approach this time," he said, nudging his brother's head to focus on the small sign in the window. 

"Oh hell no."

…

"No way Sammy. No. There is no way in Hell I'm letting you do this," Dean said, doing his best to not yell at his brother. It wasn't Sam's fault, he knew that. No, it wasn't his brother's fault that they had walked into the bar posing as applicants for bartenders. It wasn't his fault that the owner had taken one look at Sam - a very  _ long _ look in Dean's opinion - and decided that he'd be perfect for Ladies Night. It wasn't his fault that now Dean was dressed in his tightest jeans and a black sleeveless shirt that showed off his biceps - the owner had given him a second look that time - while Sam stood in front of him in a white button down shirt and snug black pants. 

"Dean, if we're gonna catch this Siren,  _ again _ , then we gotta play our parts. Just remember-"

"I know, no shared drinks and no drunken kisses. You take all the joy out of strip bars Sammy." Sam just snorted at his comment and was about to make a comment back when the owner came up to him, pressing a hand down on his shoulder. 

"Alright big guy, let's get you backstage. The ladies will be coming in soon. And you, you handsome sonofabitch, you keep all your tips. So make sure to bat those pretty eyes of yours if you wanna make some real money." He said this last part to Dean, who grumbled as Sam, laughing quietly, went to the back of the bar, slipping behind a curtain and disappearing from view.

Oh, he hoped they caught this damn thing tonight. He didn't know how much of this he could take.

…

Dean kept his eyes scanned, never knowing who could be the Siren - there had been men and women killers this time, so anyone could be next. Of course, that didn't stop him from giving all the ladies at the bar his trademark smirk. He was making some good tips tonight. If it wasn't for the fact that he'll be dead any day from something or other, he could be a bartender for good he thought. 

He didn't really notice right away that Sam had taken the stage, focused on a petite blonde at the bar celebrating her engagement with some friends. But her attention was soon dragged away, making Dean look up.

He was sure his jaw dropped.

Sam was up there, in his white shirt and black pants, barefoot. His hips were swaying side to side to the music as his fingers began to pluck at the buttons of the shirt. Dean could see women calling to his brother, throwing money down on the stage, but he couldn't focus his attention on anything but the man who continued dancing. Luckily, he wasn't the only one - all of the ladies who had been at the bar were now focused on Sam.

As Sam undid the last of the buttons, he let the shirt slip down his shoulders, the ladies hollering at his bare chest, oohing at the dark hair that covered the broad expanse of skin. He tossed the shirt to a lady, who squealed before another tried to take it away. He had to turn his back from them so he didn't get caught rolling his eyes. Which didn't seem to be a problem, because now he was showing the ladies the smooth panes and hard muscles of his back, the sweet taper to his waist. 

He continued the smooth movements of his hips as he turned back around, his hands now teasing at the button of the pants. 

The ladies went wild, all of them gathering closer to the stage. Dean himself leaned farther across the bar so he could get a better look. Not that he wanted to ogle his brother, but hey, man was good looking - Dean could appreciate that.

Sam actually catches Dean's eye, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he snaps open the button of the pants. 

Dean tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before he lets out a soft breath. They probably wouldn't have looked away, except a server grabbed Dean's attention for some drinks, breaking their eye contact. Sam rolled his shoulders - a graceful movement to the music as well as a way to shake off the feeling that had briefly crowded his mind while he had looked at Dean. 

He focuses his attention back on the ladies, his eyes drifting to one who is sitting in a corner by herself, eyes shifting back and forth, as if looking for someone. Her shoulders were hunched, her purse gripped tightly in her hands. 

Sam lets his fingers tug slowly at the zipper on the pants, hips still moving, his whole body one long graceful wave to the music, as he kept an eye on her. He had to let Dean know, but he couldn't stop right now. Even though he kinda wanted to. Instead, he pulled down the zipper all the way and began to slide the pants down his legs.

Dean was  _ really _ glad he was behind the bar right now. One, he could easily grab a bottle of beer and chug it down his suddenly dry throat, and two, no one could see how much tighter his pants had gotten.

_ Holy shit, he had just popped a boner for his little brother.  _

To be fair, Dean had always known Sam was good-looking, but here he stood on the stage, still moving those damn hips as he stepped out of the black pants, in nothing but a pair of very tiny black boxer-briefs. They definitely did not leave much to the imagination. 

Sam leaned up against the pole on stage, moving his hips to the music as he let the ladies ogle him, and it made Dean wonder something.

_ Just how did his little brother get so good at this? _

….


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another night at the bar, another night of watching Sam dance.

They didn't get the Siren last night, but they would get it tonight, or fucking die trying. It had taken a little bit of smooth talking to the manager, but he agreed to let Sam dance again tonight; now Dean just had to explain to his brother what theme he would be dancing to.

…

"What?! No!" Sam started, stepping back away from Dean, who groaned and met his brother's eyes. 

"We don't have a choice Sammy, isn't that what you told me before? We gotta find this thing before more people die!"

"Yeah I get that but man,  _ do you know what tonight is??" _

"Yeah Sammy, I know it's not exactly what you wanted to do, but come on. We gotta try. And I mean… you can do this, no problem on that part." Sam looks at Dean then, who has a high blush tinting his tan cheeks. Sam licks his lips and steps back, his own face burning now.

"Yeah Dean. I'll do it. You'll be at the bar, right?"

"Right in your line of sight little brother."

…

Sam stood in the small dressing room of the club, staring at the clothes he had chosen to wear for his dance tonight.

Oh, it made his heart race to think Dean would see him like this. Sam hadn't done anything so… risque, since he was in college. Cuz hey, College wasn't gonna pay for itself ya know? And besides, what Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Not like he needed to know how Sam had gotten so good at dancing.

With a shaky breath, Sam began to take off his street clothes and change into the dance clothes.

He really hoped they caught the damn thing tonight, especially before Dean could start asking questions.

…

Dean stood at the bar again - dagger and a victim's blood in pocket and boot - eyes surveying the crowd tonight. What the fuck was he thinking, having Sam dance on fucking Gay Night? Dean didn't have a problem with that - he was glad there was a safe place for people to go and enjoy themselves without having to worry about getting ganked, man people were assholes - but now he was gonna have all these men watching  _ his _ Sammy dance and take off his clothes.

Man, Dean really hoped they caught this damn thing tonight.

He needed a beer.

…

Dean's head jerked up at the music started up, a swell of noise and bop beats as Sam came out on the stage.

All the men on the floor began to wolf whistle and call out to the younger Winchester. 

"Oh yeah baby boy!"

"Let us see what you got princess!"

"Mmm look at that ass!"

"Take off the clothes baby, let's see that pretty body!"

Okay, Dean was about to start ganking people. He caught Sam's eyes on him though, and went back to gulping down his beer. No one was focusing on him, so he didn't care that he was technically drinking on the job.

All eyes were on Sammy, but Sammy's eyes were on Dean.

He was dressed like he was the night before - white shirt, black pants. Dean thought perhaps he had some type of shoes or socks on this time, but he couldn't really tell.

He watched Sam spin, hips gyrating in the air as he began to work at the button on his shirt, first exposing one shoulder, then the other, then letting the material slide off his body.

Dean saw an influx of bills land on the stage by Sam's feet. Sam was so buying him dinner after this. 

The men hooted and hollered as Sam turned back to face then, rolling his stomach and moving his hips as his fingers began to tug at the zipper and button. 

Dean had his bottom lip twisted between his teeth, his jeans already uncomfortably tight as he waited with the rest of the men in the club. Dean met Sam's eyes, barely registering the fear in them as Sam began to push the material down his legs.

_ Holy. Fucking. Shit _ .

Yep, Dean just popped a full on boner like he was 14 and feeling up some girl for the first time - he hadn't been this hard in  _ years _ . Man was almost 40, but apparently he could still pack a punch.

And Sammy…

Oh yeah, Dean would be going back to Hell for this, no doubt about that.

Sam was swaying his hips, his back to Dean now as the rest of men in the building called out to him, throwing money and asking him to take it all off. But hey, this gave Dean a chance to really  ** _look_ ** .

Sam,  _ his _ Sammy, was wearing dark black panties - not boxer briefs, but fucking  _ panties  _ \- that hugged the curve of his hips and junk and ass very nicely. And then, eyes trailing down, Dean sucked in a breath. Sam's mile-long legs were covered in knee-high see through black stockings. 

Dean felt like he was about to fucking come in his jeans. Finally though, his attention was drawn away from Sam as a young man - had to be no older than 25, if even that - came up to the bar.

"Hi," he said, voice quiet and eyes lowered as he leaned into Dean over the bar. Sam was still dancing now, more men tossing more money at him as he bent at the waist to pull his stocking up more on his leg. Dean was pretty sure he just saw a 100 land somewhere by Sam's foot. 

"What can I getcha?" Dean asked, playing the part of the bartender well. The guy smiled and blushed, looking away.

"The manager told me that he's yours," the guy said, tilting his head at Sam. "I wanted to buy him for the night. $2000. Heck, let me fuck your mouth for an extra $1000?"

Oh, this kid had Dean's full attention now, anger burning in his gut. But then he saw a quick glimpse of a reflection in a recently cleaned glass that sat towards the side.

Oh.  _ Oh. _

"How about I pour you a drink, and we'll talk." The guy grinned and sat down at a stool as Dean stooped down, grabbing a drink shaker, and pulling the vial of blood from his boot. He turned around quickly, the vial hidden in his hand. He caught sight of Sam's eyes in the mirror behind the bar, and he very minutely shook his head and raised an eyebrow. He got a tiny nod back and then Sam jumped off the stage, dancing on the floor with the drunk men.

A perfect distraction.

Dean just hoped this worked. His eyes rose up to the line of decorative cups lined up on a shelf. He scanned them, finally picking two, before he poured both of them a drink, a couple drops of the blood going into one.

Oh he really hoped this worked.

He tried not to focus on Sam, who was now  _ giving a fucking lapdance  _ to some blonde asshat in a black tshirt and leather jacket. Instead, he focused on handing the drink to the young man.

"Here you go baby," he said, voice all smooth and warm again. The guy grinned and placed a hand on Dean's arm. 

"You know, I could be exactly what you and him need. I don't mind sharing." Dean smirked, his insides reeling as he picked up his drink, downing almost half of it. The guy giggled  _ \- sounding like a fucking creepy ass clown now bitch _ \- and then grabbed his drink, throwing back almost the whole thing.

And then he began to gag.

"Couldn't really stab you here in the open," Dean says, taking the cup and smirking at the struggling young man, who's face began to take on different shapes. "But hey, lucky break. Decorative bronze cup, warm beer, and a few drops of that poor lady's blood. You know, the one you made kill her two sisters so you two could "be all the family you needed"? Like that line huh? Man, I'd say it's good to see you again, but then we'd both be liars." 

The guy glared, one eye blue, one eye brown, with half his hair white and the other half black, face distorting more by the second. Dean watched, stone-faced, as he finally slumped to the bar, unmoving. He looked up to catch Sam's eyes, and with a small nod, Sam began to gather up his clothes and the money while Dean helped the "drunk bastard" out of the club and into an alley, where he was stabbed in the chest. Just in case.

…

Later that night, after they burned the remains and gotten back to the motel to clean up, Dean decided he needed to ask Sam something. And then maybe say something of his own too.

"Sammy, I gotta know. How'd you get so good at this?" He saw the way his brother tried not stiffen, to clam up at the question, but Dean knew him too well - he knew all his tells, all his moves. "Its okay. Just talk to me."

Sam met Dean's eyes, saw them free of judgement, and decided that they needed to talk about more than this.

Because he could definitely see the outline of Dean's half-hard dick in his jeans. 

…

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam shows Dean how good at dancing he really is

Sam had avoided the conversation of his "dancing" until they had made it back to the safety and anonymity of the bunker. Dean wouldn't drop the subject though, determined to find out how how this had all started.

And if Dean found it hot, well he was only human. 

So Sam finally found himself cornered at the kitchen table with Dean as he thought on how to start this conversation.

"You know I was really fucking lucky to get a full ride to Stanford," Sam said, eyes not meeting Dean's as he talked. "But shit in California is  _ expensive.  _ I only had like 20 bucks to my name when I got there. At first I did little things, tutored some here, cleaned some dorms there, and before too long Jess and I were already hanging out. She took me out to a bar one night, where there was an… "amateur dance night". People could sign up, dance for 5 minutes, best dancer won $500. She always said I had the legs for it." 

Dean chuckled a bit, so Sam looked up to meet his eyes as he continued his story, finding comfort in the fact that although Dean looked amused, he didn't look upset.

"Long story short, I danced, and I won. The manager liked me, and offered me a spot to dance, if I wanted it. So every other weekend I'd go out, dance for about 15 minutes, and walk away with a pocketful of cash." 

Dean was nodding as Sam finished, shifting a bit to cover up his growing "problem". Although he didn't like the thought of sleazy men and women fawning over Sammy, he did like the thought of Sam dancing.

There was still one thing he still wanted to know about though.

"Um, can I ask about the… panties?" Dean asked, coughing a bit on the last word. Sam felt his face heat up as he averted his eyes again. 

"Right. I wanted to seem convincing tonight. Seemed to work."

Okay, Sam was  _ definitely _ looking at Dean's crotch now.

Dean coughed again and kind of hunched over, crossing his arms and bracing his elbows against his knees as he met his little brother’s eyes, trying his damndest to hide his growing boner. Sam looked too warm, face dusted in red, shirt unbuttoned at the top, showing a hint of the white v-neck underneath. Sam could see Dean’s eyes trailing from his face and down his neck, and Sam had to wonder where this was going.

Dean licked his lips and met Sam’s eyes again, his own smoldering and Sam had to take a quick inhale of breath as Dean leaned a little closer to him.

“I want you to dance for me.” Dean’s voice was deep and rough, his pupils darkening as he kept his eyes focused on Sam. Sam found himself nodding as his brother smirked, completely predatory before he stood up, reaching for Sam to help him up.

Keeping his hands on Sam’s arms, Dean led him down the hallway and into his room, where he closed and locked the door. Sam stood there, eyes never leaving Dean as he kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks, and collapsed onto his bed, shimmying up to lean back against his pillows. He arranged himself with his hands clasped behind his head, legs splayed open, giving Sam a perfect view now of the tense tent in his jeans.

Dean just quirked an eyebrow, as if in challenge, and Sam felt that spark in him that he always felt when competing with his brother. So, trying to sway his hips just enough, he went over to Dean’s record player and picked out a good song to dance to. He wanted to laugh, because it seemed fitting that Dean would have this single in his collection.

The first chords of Warrants  _ Cherry Pie _ began to play, and Dean had to bite his lip in anticipation as Sam’s hips began to sway to the beat, hypnotic in his movements.

Dean has seen many dancers move to this song over his life, but Sam? Sam had to be the best he had ever seen. As his brother slipped off his overshirt and pulled his other shirt up over his head to show off the broad expanse of his shoulders and the lean muscles of his back, Dean felt like the luckiest man alive.

And when Sam's pants came off? 

Dean was never letting this man out of this room again. 

  
  



End file.
